El Médani, my friend from Swéra, or Mogadore, whom I used to call my political thermometer, or rather my politico-meter, on account of his exhibiting towards me friendly feelings only at times when he saw everything quiet, sent me his compliments in the morning of the first of January; nay, even the two leaders of the hostile factions,—Hammádi, the rival of my protector, and Táleb Mohammed, the wealthiest merchant in the town, and the leader of the intriguing merchants from Morocco,—gave me to understand that they wanted to enter into friendly relations with me. My health as yet was very precarious; but I felt so much recovered in mind and body that, preparatory to my longed for departure, I began arranging the remainder of my baggage, which, with the exception of my small library, had been very much reduced. To my great astonishment and delight, while searching through my lumber, I found another thermometer in good repair. From the remainder of my broken instruments I picked up a good deal of quicksilver, which I gave to the Sheikh, who himself, as well as his other unsophisticated friends, derived a great deal of amusement from observing the qualities of this metal. Meanwhile, my protector endeavoured to make me fully acquainted with the political relation in which he stood to his brothers, Sídi Mohammed and Zén el ʿAbidín, whom he expected soon to arrive, and of whose different views in politics he gave me some slight hints; and I lamented greatly that the power of this noble family, instead of being strengthened by the number of its conspicuous scions, was only rent and split by the divergency of their views.